


Just Sit With Me

by RichardGraysonPercyJackson



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Crying, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Sad, lonely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 03:20:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18241331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RichardGraysonPercyJackson/pseuds/RichardGraysonPercyJackson
Summary: "I need you to put a bullet in Agent 37’s head.”“Forgive me, sir,” Tiger said slowly. “But I fear I may have misheard you.”"Oh no, you didn't. I want you to slip into Agent 37’s room and kill him.”*takes place during when Bruce had amnesia (if that was actually a thing)*





	Just Sit With Me

Tiger was not a hugger. He was not a friendly person. Or a nice person. He had taken lives and felt nothing. He did what needed to be done in order to complete the job and if that meant putting a bullet through his target’s head, then so be it.

No matter who that target may be.

Matron, Helena Bertinelli, was now known as Huntress after losing her position as head of Spyral. By all accounts, Tiger - Agent 1 - should have been named Patron. But things didn’t work that way and some distant cousin of the creator of Spyral was in place.

It was Wednesday, three days after the change of control, when Tiger was called the man’s office.

“You asked to see me?” he asked, expression neutral as he stood before the man’s desk.

“Yes,” the man replied. “You’re Agent 1, correct?”

The man already knew the answer. It was a rhetorical question. He still expected Tiger to answer.

“Yes.”

The man hummed, clicking away at the computer. He hadn’t looked up once. Tiger ground his teeth together. Matron, at least, had always had the decency to face her agents when talking to them.

“You’re Agent 37’s partner?”

He looked up this time. This wasn’t a rhetorical question. The man genuinely didn’t know the answer. Tiger wasn't completely sure where this conversation was going or even what the point was.

“I am.”

The man hummed. “Says he’s from Gotham,” he mumbled to himself, looking back at the screen. “Crazy place.” he looked up at Tiger. “Ever been there?”

“No.” what was the point of asking that.

“Figured,” the man muttered, leaning back in his seat with a sigh. “How long have you been with Spyral, Agent 1?”

“Several years,” Tiger replied.

“You’ve taken a lot of lives?”

“Yes.”

“And you’d take a life if I told you it was for Spyral’s wellbeing?” the man’s eyes glinted in a way Tiger did  _ not  _ like.

“I would,” Tiger confirmed, slightly uneasy.

“Fantastic,” the man said. He continued to gaze at Tiger before sitting upright. “I need you to put a bullet in Agent 37’s head.”

Tiger was silent because there was no way he’d heard that correctly. “Forgive me, sir,” he said slowly. “But I fear I may have misheard you.”

The man chuckled, a sound that had all the hair standing up on Tiger’s arms. For whatever reason this man wanted Richard Grayson dead, none of the reasons had  _ anything  _ to do with the wellbeing of Spyral.

“Oh no, you heard me perfectly well,” he said, reaching into his desk drawer and pulling out a gun, handing it over to Tiger who took it, hoping the man couldn’t see his hand shaking. “I want you to slip into Agent 37’s room...and kill him.”

“Why?” It wasn’t like Tiger to ask questions. To question an order. But this...this seemed  _ wrong _ .

“For Spyral,” the man whispered, turning back to his computer. “Email me a picture once you’re finished.”

“Of course,” Tiger mumbled because he knew accepting the job was the only way he was getting out of this office. As soon as the door closed behind him, he stared blankly at the gun before tightening his grip. He had a job to do.

  
  


……

 

He kept his steps light and silent as he neared Agent 37’s door which he found cracked open, just slightly. Tiger couldn’t help but scoff and roll his eyes because maybe Grayson  _ deserved  _ a bullet to the head if he was stupid enough to leave the door unlocked and unlatched. He took a moment to check the magazine and found the gun only had one bullet.

One bullet. One chance. No do overs.

Taking a quiet breath and forcing any emotion and  _ feeling  _ he might have for Grayson, Tiger slipped into the agent’s Spyral apartment. The living room and kitchen were empty, but Tiger could hear Grayson’s obvious voice back in the bedroom, like he was talking to someone.

Tiger waited in the living room for a few seconds but Grayson’s voice never seemed to stop. It dipped in a few moments of silence but those silences never lasted long enough for someone to reply, either in person or over a phone.

Tiger’s steps were noiseless as he slipped up to the bedroom door, placing a hand on the wood, gun ready in the other. He was stopped, however, when he heard Grayson’s words loud and clear.

“Please,” the acrobat whimpered. He sounded like he was crying. “Just let me come home.”

Tiger pressed his lips together, a stray emotion of...something, slipping out of his carefully constructed cage. Heaving a quiet sigh, Tiger slipped the gun away and rapped on the door before stepping in.

Grayson was a mess, sitting in the center of his bed, half the blankets thrown on the floor. His eyes were red and puffy and he’d obviously been crying, sobbing, for a long time. A small phone was clutched tightly in his hand but Tiger doubted he was getting any reply.

Dick jumped back when Tiger slipped in and rushed to hide the phone. “Tiger, I-”

“You’re unable to contact your family,” Tiger said calmly.

Dick was silent. “What are you doing here? He was trying to change the subject. Avoid the question.

“Why won’t your family reply?”

It was only a second question but it seemed to break Dick farther than he’d already broken because his shoulders dropped and he covered his face with his hand, fighting back more tears.

“I-I’ve only been in contact with B-Bruce,” he said, shoulders shaking as he tried to keep himself together. “Everyone else thinks I’m...dead. I can only talk to Bruce.”

Tiger quietly closed and locked the bedroom door behind himself. As low as it was, this was the perfect time to take Grayson’s life. When he would never expect an attack.

“I see.”

“I know you hate me,” Dick whispered, letting his hand drop to his lap as he gazed up at Tiger. “I know I’m annoying and obnoxious.” He gave a sour laugh. “I  _ know.  _ I don’t...you don’t understand.”

All Tiger had to do was pull out the gun and pull the trigger. No one would notice or care. It was Spyral after all. He did neither of these things, instead stepping forward.

“What don’t I understand?”

Dick gave a tearful laugh, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “I grew up in a circus,” he said, dropping his gaze to his lap. “I  _ thrive _ on contact and the people around me. B-but here everyone hates me and no one trusts and-”

“I don’t hate you,” Tiger said calmly.

Dick gave a self deprecating laugh. “Sure you do,” he said. “Everyone does.”

Tiger heaved a sigh. “Grayson-”

“I don’t want to be here any more than you want me here, Tiger,” Dick whispered, sniffling. “I just want to go home.”

Tiger was silent for a long time, gazing down at the broken man before him. For the first time, after all this time he’d spent working with the idiotic acrobat who was always cracking jokes, Tiger finally saw that all those jokes were nothing more than a cover up for the truth.

A cover so no one could see how broken Dick Grayson really was.

Tentatively, Tiger sat down on the edge of the bed. “What would you like me to do?”

Dick shook his head. “There’s nothing you  _ can _ do.”

Tiger understood that. “Then what can I do to make it easier?”

Dick was quiet for a moment. “Just sit with me,” he replied, looking up at Tiger. “Please.”

Tiger agreed.

 

………..

 

One week later, Tiger returned the gun to the man in charge of Spyral.

No bullets.

“Well done, Agent 1.”

Tiger gave a short nod and walked away. His job was done.

 

……….

 

On the other side of the world, alone on the tallest skyscraper, Nightwing watched fondly as Red Robin and Robin raced each other to a nearby burglary.

With a small smile, Nightwing took off his mask and looked up at the sky. “Thank you, Tiger,” he whispered before slipping the mask back on and leaping off the roof to aid his brothers.


End file.
